Hello! It’s me.

Maybe humans don’t have to worry about this, but it turns out that a lot of people don’t treat me well. Do I look happy that Frank is scouting my personal condo for his own selfish purposes? No. All I have to say to Frank is one simple phrase … treat me right.

After Frank drained his salivary glands all over one of my toys, I decided to decimate the keepsake.

Mom thought this was an invitation to playtime. She called me up on the couch, pulled me close, and then … and then … and then … she forcefully blew her moist breath all over my face for some God forsaken reason. Now if her breath had been mint-inspired, I might not have minded. But normal breath, fortified with humidity, launched at 20 knots directly at me? No thank you.

I walked away from her, sat next to Dad, glared back toward Mom to get my point across, then said the following phrase …

Treat. Me. Right.

Mom got the message … the next day we got to take a fun walk, one where I dictated the path. Now this represented some sweet action.

Do you see the joy on my face? The unparalleled enthusiasm, dare I say a “zest” for life? That’s the response I give to folks who treat me right.

Which reminds me … Christmas is just around the corner … another opportunity to treat me right, #amirite?